


Like a River

by Arcwin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Breathplay, Dean Winchester Likes It Rough, Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Dom/sub Undertones, Eye Sex, Feelings, Friends to Lovers, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, POV First Person, Rough Castiel (Supernatural), Songfic, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 07:57:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17956643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcwin/pseuds/Arcwin
Summary: A series of events leading up to the moment Dean finally says "fuck it" and shows Cas exactly how he feels.First person POV, basically a glorified PWP with some feels. Read the tags, enjoy the smut.Inspired by the song "River" by Bishop Briggs





	Like a River

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime in the middle-ish of Season 4. No distinct markers for plot, but exists within the canon somewhere.
> 
> Best if you cue up the song and listen to it while reading, but certainly not necessary. :)

_Like a river,_

_Like a river._

_Shut your mouth and run me like a river._

Goddammit. Who’da thought I'd end up like this, huh? You know, life used to be simple. Me and Sammy, driving Baby from town to town, huntin’ witches and demons, drinkin’ beer and gettin’ laid. Well, I was, anyway. Sammy has too much _focus_ for that. Unless we're talkin’ about werewolf chicks, then _apparently_ he has all the time in the world for a good bone. Ha!

But _no_ , of course life had to get all _complicated_ . Sammy turned all Criss Angell but with slightly less douchebaggery, then got himself killed, then I had to go make a deal with the crossroads demon to bring his sorry ass back, and then I went to hell _as promised_. Lot to catch up on, I know.

Just wait, though. I'm getting to the good part. The reason we're here, the point of all of this.

You see, even though I was damned to spend eternity in hell, being tortured until I agreed to torture damned souls myself, I got out.

Not just got out.

 _Rescued_.

That's right, _I_ was _rescued._   ** _Saved_** _,_ as he likes to remind me.

Who on this planet would want to save me? Turns out, aside from Sammy and maybe Bobby, nobody. Or at least nobody _could_ , so why try, right? Hell, _I_ wouldn’t try to save me.

No, no one on planet Earth could save me. Instead I was picked up like a five dollar hooker in the red light district by _Castiel_ , a fuckin’ angel of the Lord. That's right, you heard me. God himself, the man upstairs (who _apparently_ has a plan), sent one of his winged warriors down to fight through the demons of hell and save me.

Turns out, he's a real dick, too.

_How do we fall in love?_

_Harder than a bullet could hit ya._

“Cas, man, personal space. C’mon,” I remind him for the freaking hundredth time. He’s an angel, but he can’t remember basic social skills. Sometimes I think he purposely forgets them just to piss me off. He’s gotta know how uncool it is to basically sit on top of me on the couch. There’s a whole three feet between him and the other arm. An _entire_ cushion. But no, our thighs just _have_ to touch. “Dude,” I insist, waving my hand towards the other end of the couch.

Cas stares at me, those big blue puppy dog eyes stuck on mine for _way_ too long. “Oh,” is all he says, not moving an inch. _Oh?_ What’s _that_ supposed to mean? I hate it when he looks at me like that. It’s like he can see right into my head, and it freaks me the fuck out. I don’t need no one poking around up in there. That shit’s scary.

“So, you gonna at least offer me a drink before you start feelin’ me up?” I tease, wiggling my eyebrows at him to lighten things up between us. Not that we need anything like that, I mean. It’s just awkward. It’s always awkward when Cas is around. He is the definition of _awkward_.

He blinks, then frowns. “I don’t think we have any beer,” he replies, looking around our crappy motel room, totally clueless. Even with all the time he spends around us, he still doesn’t seem to get it. It’s adorable.

At the table, Sammy smirks, hiding a laugh.

“Yeah, laugh it up, moose. Better than anything you’re getting,” I taunt, settling back into the cushions of the couch. I’m gonna be comfy, even if Cas won’t move. His leg’s warm against mine. Wish he’d relax a bit, though. Then I could at least put my arm around his shoulders instead of keeping it pinned between us. (It's starting to go numb.)

Not put my arm around his shoulders like _that_ , though. Just, y’know, being on the road hunting every form of supernatural asshole out there makes _any_ kind of physical comfort sound good, is all.

“So, looks like we got a chupacabra to deal with,” Sammy says, turning his laptop towards us. He’s got some news articles from the local paper pulled up, showing all sorts of dead cows and sheep. _Gross_.

“Don’t see any goats,” I answer. Next to me, Cas finally sits back, making even more of _him_ touch _me._ Gotta clear my throat. No reason.

Startled, he glances over at me, eyes wide and _way_ too close. Are there bits of green in his stupid blue eyes?

“Are you all right, Dean?”

Why is that when I look at this bastard I can’t seem to think properly? Must be some stupid angel bullshit. I don’t think I’ll ever get it.

“Dean?”

Look away, Dean. Just _look away._

“Yeah, fine, Cas. Fine.” He just _keeps_ staring at me. I swear sometimes he can read my thoughts like a fucking psychic or something. Is that in the Bible? Maybe I should actually read it some time. Nah, I’ll just ask Sam later when Cas isn’t around. “So, a chupacabra, huh?”

_How do we fall apart?_

_Faster than a hair pin trigger._

Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ Knew we shouldn’t have split up. Didn’t have a good feeling about this from the start. “Dammit, Sam! Did you see where he went?”

“I thought he followed you. He _always_ follows _you_ ,” Sammy snaps, looking around with his flashlight. Why do we always have to do shit on the darkest night of the year?

“Cas!”

There’s a crash in another room, then the sounds of a scuffle. It’s gotta be him. He found the werewolves, of course. _Alone_ . Now, I know Cas is an angel, and a pretty badass one at that, but a pack of werewolves will give _anyone_ a run for their money if they're caught alone.

“C'mon Sam!” Our feet pound the wooden floorboards of the old factory, echoing around the room as we race towards the sounds of the fight. The snarling gets louder, and as I throw open the door I catch sight of Cas crumpling to the floor. **_Goddammit_**!

“Hey assholes!” The pack turns toward me right as Sam cocks his pistol filled with silver bullets and starts firing at them. One shot each to the heart. Winchesters don't waste ammo, that shit ain't cheap. Sam drops them each within a few seconds, and I’m over at Cas before the last one hits the floor. He’s got a bunch of rips in his coat and he’s got blood all over him--his arm, hands, face--so much goddamn blood. “Cas!” I shout at him, shaking his shoulders. “Dammit, open your eyes, Cas!”

Sam’s at my side, reaching over to start checking him over, but I block him with my shoulder. “ ** _Don’t_** ,” I snarl, throwing him a glare. He pulls back, eyebrows knitted together with that signature _Sam’s concerned_ look, and waits, keeping his mouth shut cause he knows better.

Beneath me, Cas’s eyelids finally flutter open, his blue eyes hazy and unfocused for a moment. He blinks a few times, then his face breaks open into that crooked smile of his. “Dean?”

Holding his face in my hands, I can’t help but smile back. “Yeah. I’m here, buddy. Don’t worry, I’ll patch ya up.”

He smiles again, and for a moment I forget we’re on the floor of a filthy factory surrounded by dead werewolves. That is, until Sammy goes and ruins the moment by coughing, making me jump outta my own skin. “Dammit Sam!” I shout, whirling around to glare at him.

“What?” my brother asks, acting clueless. He ain’t ever clueless, so it just pisses me off even more.

“Nothin’. Help me get Cas up.”

_Don’t you say, don’t you say it._

_Don’t say, don’t you say it._

“What’s going on between you and the angel, Dean?” Bobby asks out of freakin’ nowhere. We just got done chasing down a dead end, looking for a vampire coven. They knew we were coming, so they bolted with at least a day’s head start before we even found the door to their den.

Snorting, I take a long-ass swig of my beer and shrug. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Bobby.” It ain’t a lie. Well, maybe a little bit of lie. But what Bobby don’t know...he can’t make fun of me for.

Truth is, I don’t know what’s going on between me and Cas, and I haven’t had time to sit and think about it. Okay, so maybe I _have_ had time, but it isn’t something I’m itching to try to figure out. What’s going on is going on, and it don’t require an explanation or a name. And I don’t even think Cas realizes that there’s... _something_. Hell, who even knows with him.

“I got eyes, Dean. Don’t lie to me, boy,” Bobby argues, his bottle clunking down on the table. “If’n you don’t wanna tell me, at least promise it won’t get in the way of you and Sammy, will ya? You two got a bond that you can’t let nobody break, angel or not.” He widens his eyes and waits.

With a shake of my head and an eye-roll, I grunt, “Yeah.”

The door to the motel room opens slowly, swinging wide as Sam staggers in carrying armloads of books and a sixer. “I don’t think it’s vampires,” he announces, dumping the books down onto a bed. A small cloud of dust puffs up around them, dancing in the shitty yellow light from the bedside lamps.

“That’s _your_ bed,” I say with a smirk, reaching for one of the beers. Right as my fingers close around the neck of a bottle, Sam moves away from the door to reveal Cas, whose eyes are glued to me. His hair is disheveled from the thunderstorm outside, plastered to his forehead but sticking up in the back.

 _Sex hair_.

Shit, Dean. Cut it out.

“Hello, Dean,” he says, hands running down his chest as he flings away the rainwater from his trench coat. Water drips down his forehead and off the tip of his nose, which he ignores while he continues staring at me.

Aware of our audience, I throw him a quick grin. “What’d you do, go swimming?” Setting the beer down, I snatch a towel from the bathroom and throw it over to him.

“Why would I go swimming? It’s raining, Dean,” he comments, his head cocked to the side as he brings the towel up to wipe at the rain running down his throat.

Chuckling, I answer, “Yeah. Come on, get out of those wet clothes, man. That coat’s gotta weigh a ton.” Behind me, I can feel Sam and Bobby staring at us. “Shut it, assholes,” I bark at them while Cas starts peeling the drenched jacket off his shoulders. It falls to the carpet with a sloppy thud, giving me front row seat to a wet tee shirt contest. Ain’t gonna lie, I like it. _Too_ much.

“Need some alone time?” Sam asks, hiding a laugh.

Bobby groans at Sam’s joke, then stands to snatch up a few books. “I’ll take a couple of these to the bar, do some reading there. Stay out of trouble, idjits,” he says before stomping off around Cas and slamming the door.

Cas’s finger hooks around his tie, dragging the damp silk knot down to loosen it, not once taking his eyes off me. I swear, he doesn’t even _blink_ sometimes. “You can, uh,” I pause to clear my throat as he starts unbuttoning his shirt. “Borrow some of my clothes until…um...”

He steps closer to me, letting his shirt fall to the floor, and nods.

“Uh,” is all I manage to croak out before my feet take over. The rain stings my face as I run through the parking lot of the motel, heading anywhere that isn’t _there_.

_One breath, it’ll just break it_

_So shut your mouth and run me like a river!_

“Dean.”

Don’t look at him. If you don’t look at him, everything will be fine. Don’t look. “Yeah?” Don’t look, Dean. Don’t do it, dammit. You don’t have time for this. _Don’t_. _Fucking_. _Look_.

“Dean. Look at me.”

 **_Fuck_**.

“Yeah, Cas?” He's staring at me, like always. I don't get it--he looks at me like I'm his own personal type of air, and the only way he can breathe is by staring at me with those ridiculously blue eyes of his. Those eyes that make me feel like I'm drowning when I look into them, and I can't be bothered to try to get back to the surface.

I am so fucked.

“Dean.” The way he says my name, it's like he's having some kind of a revelation. Like he's never said it before, and he's just testing it out on his tongue. _There's way more I'd like him to test out on his tongue._ **Stop it, Dean.**

“Yeah, Cas?” I repeat, hoping he will stop doing whatever it is he's doing to me and just tell me what's going on. He drives me _crazy_ , always standin’ too close and leaning towards me while burning holes into me with that stare. It’s gotta be some kinda angel thing, not understanding personal space or social norms. How the hell do they get along with each other in heaven without doing the horizontal tango every five seconds? Or maybe that _is_ what they do. I wonder how many times Cas has given someone _the look_ , and grabbed them by their wings, that voice of his rumbling in his chest as he--

 _What is wrong with me?_ This is an angel I’m thinking about. I’m such an idiot! Angels don’t have sex. Isn’t sex a sin or something? It definitely is between two dudes, angel or not.

“Dean,” he murmurs while peering into my face, licking his lips like I'm some kind of tasty snack. “Are you ill?”

 _Fuck it._ I’ve been to hell. I’ll go back if I have to.

“Shut up, Cas,” I say, planting my hands on his shoulders and pushing him against the nearby wall. His eyes grow huge while he draws in his bottom lip, holding it with his teeth. My hips roll with a mind of their own, pressing into his pelvis. His dick is at least as hard as mine, and the friction makes me gasp.

Cas moans, head falling back against the wall as I grind into him. “Dean,” he growls, strong hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave bruises. He pulls me close, threading his knee between my thighs and pressing our chests together.

“ _Finally_ ,” he adds, sucking a hickey onto the side of my neck.

_Shut your mouth, baby stand and deliver!_

_Holy hands will they make me a sinner?_

“Finally?” I ask, weaving my fingers into his hair and tugging. _Hard_ . If he likes it rough, I’m gonna give it to him _rough_.

Cas stiffens beneath me, muscles working as he continues grinding into the top of my thigh. “I've _wanted_ this,” he answers, his voice breathy in my ear. “You have _no_ idea, Dean,” he adds.

“Oh, I can assure you, I most certainly do,” I reply with a smirk.

He pulls away and looks at me, cheeks flushed and mouth open as he breathes shallowly. “Show me,” he commands suddenly, voice sharp and low. “ _Show me_ **_now_** _, Dean_.”

“Christ,” is all I got before I slam my mouth onto his, unable to hold back anymore. He's firm, holding his own as I slide my lips against his, nipping at his bottom lip before sucking it into my mouth. The stubble on his chin scratches at my skin, reminding me loud and clear that this is _Cas_ I'm kissing, _Cas_ I'm humping, _Cas, Cas, CAS._ Fire spreads through my body, making every cell feel like it’s finally _alive_ now that we’re doing this.

His chest heaves against mine, heart pounding as I drop my hands to his waist band to start yanking out his shirt. Dude’s always way too buttoned up, way too clothed for my liking, and I finally get to fix it. His hands can’t seem to settle anywhere, grabbing at my hips, my shirt, my arms, wrapping around the base of my skull and threading into my hair. He’s just as desperate as I am, just as wound up, and fuck, it’s _hot as hell_. Didn’t know I had the power to make an angel so hot and bothered. Feels good. It _all_ feels good.

The buttons on his dress shirt are annoying and way too small for my clumsy fingers, so I give up, sending them flying as I rip it open. His abs tremble under my hands, that quiver that says it’s almost ticklish, but it still feels good. I wanna touch every part of him at once, but I know I gotta make this last. I’m usually a one-hit-wonder, but this is _different_.

 _This is_ **_Cas_**.

“ _Dean_ ,” he gasps as I suck his nipple into my mouth. “I want to touch you, Dean.”

 _Fuck yeah._ You’re gonna get the chance, don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. I nod at him as I kiss my way over to his other nipple and he grabs at my hair. He tugs gently, and I pull off, looking up at him. “Don’t you dare hold back, Cas. Gimme all you got. I _need_ it.”

His eyes flash and something in him changes, hearing the challenge in my voice and rising to it. Without trying, he pulls me up to my feet and spins me around, slamming me up against the wall. His shirt hangs limply off his shoulders, and the tent in his pants couldn't be more obvious. My mouth’s watering at the sight of him, half undone and ready to take charge. I may act tough, but there ain't nothin’ hotter than being made into someone else's sex toy.

_Like a river, like a river_

_Shut your mouth and run me like a river!_

Cas leans in close, running his nose along my throat while breathing me in. He’s hot, so _freaking_ hot as he presses against me, his hands sliding down my chest until they reach my fly, popping open the button. His blue eyes burn into mine as he raises a single eyebrow, looking for consent.

Panting, I nod enthusiastically at him, my dick throbbing in my boxers. “ _Shit_ , Cas, you don’t need my permission, just--”

“I wasn’t waiting for _permission_ .” He cocks his head to the side and smirks, the _jerk_ , while his fingers stay completely still on the zipper to my jeans.

Frowning, I snap, “Then what are you waiting for?”

“For you to beg.”

Blinking, I swallow and respond, “To _beg_ ?” Hate how my voice sounds, so shocked that Cas of all people has my dick about to be _literally_ in his hands, and he somehow knows _exactly_ what I like. Not _just_ what I like, but what I've _wanted_ from him since the beginning. I’ll get on my fucking knees in worship of this douchebag if it means I get to choke on his dick. “You want me to...beg?”

“Let me hear it, Dean. Let me hear how much you want me. Shout it so loud my brothers and sisters can hear it all the way in heaven,” he says, his free hand coming up to cup my jaw. The fingers at my fly toy with the zipper, his knuckles brushing against my dick.

“Fuck, _Cas_ , whatever you want, just touch me dammit!” He gives me a _look_ , all eyebrows and pursed lips, and damn he makes _anything_ seem sexy. I don’t know how he does it, but I know for a fact that ain’t nothin’ to do with being an angel. I met plenty in my day and none of them, I mean **none** of them had the sex appeal that Cas has. Not one. (Well, Anna was pretty hot, but she wasn’t asking for it the same way Cas does with every single freakin’ thing he does or says.)

Glaring at him, I grumble, “Okay, _please_ , Cas.”

“That’s not very convincing.”

“Perhaps you should give me some hints of what I might be missing, then. Show me some of that angelic lovin’ of yours. Make me beg you for more, hm?” I ain’t givin’ in that easily. Cas may be trying to take charge, but I’m sure as hell gonna make him work for it.

His fingers drag the zipper down slow, opening my fly. “If that’s what you want, Dean,” he murmurs in my ear, voice even lower than the sex-voice he usually has. It’s stupid how hard he makes me. He’s a freakin’ angel, and I’m about to get pounded into the wall by him. I can’t get over my luck.

Panting, I nod and say, “Oh, it’s what I _want_ , **_Cas_**.”

“Very well.”

 _Two words._ It’s just two words, but they make me weak in the knees like the top hill of the most insane roller coaster I’ve ever seen. His hands drop to my waist to push down my jeans, letting them rest halfway down my thighs. Just far enough that the main course is on full display. Cas steps back, looking like he’s about to eat me, and smiles. Not his awkward, nerdy smile that he usually plasters on his face when he’s trying to convince someone that he’s as harmless as he looks, but a real smile that takes my breath away, and it’s all for _me_.

“Dean, you are beautiful,” he says quietly before he’s on me again, yanking my shirt over my head and running his hands down my chest. He kisses at my collarbone, licking and sucking his way over to my shoulder, then bites me. _Hard_. It makes me gasp, and I reach up to pull at his hair. God knows I’ve thought about fucking Cas since the beginning, and this is exactly how I thought it would go. All sugar and spice, and _everything_ nice.

“Get this off,” I complain, pulling on his trench and dress shirt. He shrugs and it falls to the floor in a heavy pile at his feet. He shoves at my chest, pinning me between him and the wall, and grinds his hips into mine. “ _Fuck_ ,” hisses out of my mouth as he drags his dick against mine, hard and slow.

“I’m going to be _inside_ you, Dean,” Cas whispers in my ear, his cheek rubbing against mine while he continues slowly grinding against me. “I’m going to push you up against this wall, spread your legs, and thrust into you over, and over, and _over_ until you’re screaming my name,” he says, and damn if it doesn’t just about undo me right then and there. “But only,” he adds, his hands coming down between us to pet my dick through my boxers. “If you _beg_.”

His touch is enough to drive me batshit, just enough to notice but not enough to _do_ anything with it. It’s _rude,_ and I stand by my previous statement that _angels_ are _dicks_. And I _like it._

“Please,” I beg, putting everything I have into it. “ _Please_ , Cas.”

Cas hooks his fingers inside the waistband of my boxers and pulls them down. The air is cool, but I don’t care. I know what’s coming up next, and it’s gonna warm me up real good. He drops his own pants and boxers, then kicks them away to join the rest of his clothes across the room.

“Dammit Cas.” He’s fucking gorgeous, all muscle and dark hair covering his body. I don’t know what angels look like, but Cas did a damn good job picking his vessel. Somehow it feels like it’s gotta be him, how he really is--it just makes sense. I can’t imagine him looking like anything else. “How in the hell did we wait this long to do this?” I ask him as he sucks another hickey into the side of my neck, rolling his hips into mine.

He pulls away just long enough to mutter, “Your fault,” and returns his mouth to me, nibbling on my earlobe.

“ _My_ fault? How is it _my_ fault?”

“I gave you every indication of my desire for you,” Cas explains, running his hands up and down my ribs and moving his mouth to lick at my chest. He plants sloppy kisses on my stomach, leaving smears of spit all over me, and I let out an embarrassingly loud moan.

“You could’a... _fuck, yeah, Cas_...you could’a said…” I’m going to lose my goddamned mind if he keeps this up, and I think that’s his goal. Not that it’s a bad thing, or anything.

He stops suddenly and straightens up, peering into my face. “I was... _uncertain_ of your feelings.”

_Choke this love til the veins start to shiver_

_One last breath til the tears start to wither_

Fuck. “My... _feelings_?” Shit, is he going all chick-flick on me? I can’t tell if he wants me to have feelings for him, or if he wants this to be a one-and-done situation. I’ve never done this with an angel...or dude, for that matter. Does the man upstairs have anything to say about this? Does Cas care about that, or…?

“Stop.” He presses his fingers to my forehead, and by the time I blink my thoughts are gone. “You worry too much, Dean,” he says, bringing his hand to cup my cheek. “This is whatever you want it to be.”

“ _Everything_ ,” I blurt out. “Everything, all right? I want it to be everything, Cas.” I wanna just squeeze my eyes shut and curl up into a ball, but that’d be a bit awkward since my dick is out and I still really wanna get fucked by the angel in front of me.

“Then, it’s everything,” he smiles, eyes bright as he stares at me. “Now, turn around and spread your legs.” His face changes into something predatory, like a tiger stalking its prey, and he takes a step back to give me the space to move.

The shock of his command must be written all over my face, so he orders, “ ** _Now_** , Dean.”

And fuck if I don’t nearly trip over myself as I scramble to turn around, kicking off my jeans and  planting my feet shoulder-width apart while bracing my palms against the wall. Behind me, I hear him rummaging in my pants, then tear open the lube packet I had in my back pocket. How in the hell he knew it was there, I don’t know, and don’t care.

“From what I’ve read, this might hurt at first, but I intend to make it worth your while,” Cas explains, his breath hot and damp on my neck. The thought of Cas reading up on anal is both hilarious and stupidly sexy, considering he probably felt the need to rub a few out while he thought about all the things he’d do to me once he finally got his way.

“Mm, I know you will,” I murmur, spreading my feet even more and sticking out my ass like every backup dancer in a Britney Spears music video. I want this to be like every fantasy he ever had about me. It’s a good thing I had a feeling this might be coming; been getting myself used to feeling things inside me for the past few weeks just in case. Not that I hadn’t done it before; there’s always a chick here or there with a strap-on that wants to change things up, but she’s too afraid to ask her boyfriend. Dean Winchester saves the day by offering up his sweet, _sweet_ ass.

It’s been a while, though, so I’ve been practicing. _Just for Cas._

_Like a river, like a river_

_Shut your mouth and run me like a river_

His fingers find my crack, wet and dripping with lube, and I let my forehead fall against the wall in front of me. A strong hand wraps around the side of my throat, holding me steady as he slides his first finger around my hole, stroking in a way that makes me wanna sink to the floor. Gently, he starts fucking me with the tip of his finger, sliding in and out while my body adjusts. Sure, it burns, but the only thought in my head is _Cas is fucking me, Cas is fucking me, Cas. Is. Fucking._ **_Me_** _._

It doesn’t take long before I’m pressing myself back, forcing more of him inside me cause it just feels _perfect._  “ _God_ , baby, _yeah_...more!” I moan, rolling my hips around while I fuck myself on him. His hand shifts and things change for the better, two of his fingers stuck up my ass while his other hand stays steady on my throat, fingertips pressing enough to leave marks.

I _want_ him to leave marks. I _want_ him to claim me, make it clear that I belong to him, the nerdy angel who _gripped me tight_ the first time he met me. Hearing my thoughts, he tightens his hold on my neck while pulling his fingers out of my ass. Losing that feeling makes me wanna cry, but his hand is squeezing hard enough to make me gasp, so the best I got is a breathless whimper.

Cas’ lips brush against my ear. “Ready?” he whispers. I can feel the head of his dick against my ass, wet and eager. Since I can’t really talk, I nod and press myself back, taking just the tip before he even moves. His free hand grabs my hip, the nails digging into my skin.

And then, there’s a moment of silence while he holds me still and slides home.

All of it is perfect--his long, hard dick in my ass, one hand wrapped around my throat while the other holds me as in place as still as a statue so he can fuck me at the speed he wants. He steps forward, pushing me close enough to the wall that I have to drop to my elbows, and moves slowly in and out of me, making every inch count. My head gets fuzzy from his hand on my throat, little spots at the edges of my vision crowding each other out. The rest of my body fades away--it’s just a hand on my neck, a dick in my ass, and his breath in my ear, panting like a dog on a hot day.

“ _Dean_ ,” he growls, still steady and deep. “ _Dean_ , you feel **_amazing_**.”

The world beats in time with his thrusts, my blood pumping in my ears as I shake beneath him. He releases my waist and snakes his hand around to my front, soft hand stroking me closer and closer to the edge. Things start blending together, the lines get blurry as he gets faster and harder, fucking me like his life depends on it.

_Tales of an endless heart._

_Cursed is the fool who’s willing._

_Can’t change the way we are._

_One kiss away from killing._

Just as the dark blotches start to come together from too little air, Cas slams into me one last time with a strangled shout. That noise, that **glorious** noise of him coming inside me cuts through the fog in my head and _that’s it_ , that’s **_all_ ** I need. I’m coming with him, coating his hand, the wall, my stomach, whatever I can, just as he releases my throat. Air floods my lungs, shooting quickly up to my brain and making it feel like I’m drunk. There ain’t words to describe exactly how it feels, all tingly and fuzzy and fucking _good_. It feels like I’m coming forever, riding a second wave as my deprived body drinks its fill.

He wraps his arms around my torso, hands flat against my heaving chest while he lays his sweaty head on my back. I can feel his hot breath as it blows across my skin, giving me goosebumps as we start cooling off.

“Fuck,” I choke out, throat too tight from before. “That was _good_ , Cas. **_Real_ **good.”

He just hums. That’s enough for me for now.

_Don’t you say, don’t you say it._

_Don’t say, don’t you say it._

“Where have you two been? I called you both like five times! I got chased through a graveyard by a bunch of cultists with meat cleavers while you two were doing _what_?” Sam demands, his hands on his hips like a PTO mom.

“We were busy,” I answer, avoiding looking over at Cas. It took us a while to clean up and find all of our clothes, which is a sign that things were pretty damn good. “And, you’ve seen the cell service out here. No fucking signal anywhere man.”

Cas clears his throat. “Sam, Dean and I were--”

“Busy, like I said, Cas,” I interrupt, knowing Cas too well to let him finish that sentence. He has no filter _or_ chill. And the last thing Sam needs to know right now is that we were intentionally ignoring him so we could fuck against a wall in the abandoned building we were searching. “Cultists? I thought we were looking for witches?”

Sam shakes his head and frowns at us. “What’s going on?” he asks. “You two look... _different_.”

“Nothin’s going on, Sammy. Why are you always so on edge?”

“Maybe because I was just chased through a fucking graveyard by fucking cultists and I was calling for fucking backup and you were... _oh_.” He steps close to me, tilting his head and looking at my neck. “ _Oh_. **_Okay_**. I _see_. Nice. _Busy_?” I’m regretting my earlier goal of being marked by Cas.

Cas walks up next to me and nods at Sam. “I see you’ve noticed my claim. I apologize that we weren’t able to assist you in the graveyard. It won’t happen again.”

“Oh, it won’t, huh?” I turn on him with a glare.

“It _might_ happen again,” he corrects himself with a sheepish smile at me.

Grinning at Sam, I say, “It _will_ happen again. I’m not sorry about it, either.”

“Man, whatever,” Sam shrugs, walking back to the Impala. “Just...you guys have to get your own motel room now, okay? On the _opposite_ side of the motel. They have thin walls, and I don’t need to hear _that_.”

_One breath, it’ll just break it._

_So shut your mouth and run me like a river!_

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing Supernatural fic, so leave me a comment or kudos if you like! You can also find me on tumblr @Arcwin1. Hope you liked it!


End file.
